


Rebel

by dvs



Series: Variations on a D-Brane (I Belong to You) [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is a vigilante. Bones is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebel

Nero watches the TV in his office, the way the sleek black car, more rocket than car, launches down a street, past the police and past anything that gives chase. Speculation about the man driving that car is on every news channel. Nero gets up, extracting his gun from his desk drawer and shooting the TV screen.

“Why isn't he dead?” he asks with barely contained rage. “I told you I wanted him dead!”

“I shot him twice myself. I don't know how the hell he got away,” Ayel says.

“Fuck your excuses!” Nero says, sweeping everything off his desk. “I want that man. He's going to pay for the all the damage he caused me. You understand?”

Ayel nods and beats a hasty retreat.

## 

*

The party's in full swing and Commissioner Pike has seen everyone so far with the exception of the host himself. Usually he can be found with a drink in his hand and easy smile which hints to alcohol having been consumed before the official start of the party. His faithful business manager seems to be invisible too, which isn't a surprise since he's usually in close proximity to his employer.

Pike continues moving around the room, looking at faces, trying to fit them into the city's newest puzzle. It could be any one of these people.

“Commissioner Pike.” Pike turns towards the soft spoken voice to see the business manager without his employer for once, He's standing there with a controlled polite demeanor and gloved outstretched hand.

“Mr. Spock,” Pike says with a smile, shaking the offered hand.

“I trust you are enjoying the party,” Spock says.

Pike raises a glass and says. “You bet. I don't see Mr. Kirk around. It's not like him to throw a party and not show up.”

Spock's smile stretches a little and he says, “It's not like him at all. Mr. Kirk is... engaged at the moment. He will be joining us later.”

Pike smiles. It's not hard to imagine what the city's favorite playboy and brat billionaire is up to. It's usually in the papers the next day. “I look forward to seeing him.”

Spock nods, spots someone over Pike's shoulder and says, “If you'll excuse me, Commissioner.”

Pike nods. “Of course.”

He watches Spock cross the grand hall and spots another eminent member of the Kirk circle, dressed in expensive black. He's talking to two young men, half drunk glass of Champagne in his hand. Pike couldn't initially see what Kirk might have in common with Leonard McCoy, one of the country's foremost scientists, but most people forget that Kirk has an expensive education and brilliant mind, one he is in the process of killing with excess.

His life seems to consist of making a spectacle of himself one day and making it up to the city the next day by donating money to various charities. It's a far cry from his parents style of philanthropy, but no one is about to say no to a dip in the Kirk billions.

Pike sips his drink and watches Spock approach McCoy. He politely takes McCoy aside, leans in and speaks into his ear, his hand resting on McCoy's arm. Pike watches McCoy's face. There's the barest expression. His brow furrows slightly and then he nods. Spock then appears to guide McCoy out of the room.

Pike watches them closely and wonders if there is more than meets the eye to this circle of the rich and famous.

## 

*

Uhura's eyes flick between the monitors, the information streaming in fast. One monitor catches her eye and her fingers work double time as she codes in diverts that will have the city's high-tech surveillance systems running in circles all night. Next to her Scotty is nervously swinging left to right in his seat.

“Scotty, stop it,” she says. “You're making me nervous.”

“I can't help it. I mean, the bike's one thing, but the car. That's... it's the first time he's taken that out where people can see it. People like the police who will find us and beat us to death.”

“They won't find out,” Uhura says.

Scotty turns his chair towards hers and gives her a look. “Oh, really? Why's that then?”

Uhura narrows her eyes at him and smoothly tells him, “We're fucking geniuses, that's why.”

Scotty is momentarily placated and nods. “That is true actually.” Then he notices the proximity alarm and shoots out of his chair. “He's here. Get Spock!”

“He's already on his way. I'm locking down the lower compound,” Uhura says and she's out of her seat too, following Scotty out of the small room, into the corridor and an elevator that takes them another level below Kirk Manor.

## 

*

Spock and McCoy lock the door to the library, heading past some glass cabinets that display things from all over the world. They go into the corner, pull a section of shelves that opens a door and step into the stairwell, silently making their way down.

“I can sense your apprehension, Doctor. I suggest you unleash whatever volatile opinions you have on this operation before we see Jim,” Spock says, ahead of McCoy.

“No thanks,” McCoy says. “I'd rather go ballistic when I see him, if it's all the same to you.”

“Very well,” Spock says. “I trust you'll be able make your feelings known in your usual subdued manner.”

“You really think I wouldn't push you down these stairs?” McCoy asks.

Wisely, Spock is quiet until they reach the underground garage and see the black bullet of a car screech to a halt. Scotty and Uhura are already there, Scotty with a scanning device and Uhura overriding the security protocols to release the locks. They run to the car as the doors flip up like insect wings in thin black layers and Jim all but slides out on to the floor.

McCoy catches him and he and Spock pull him out of the car, holding him up between them as he grimaces and says, “Sorry Scotty.”

Scotty frowns and says, “What? Why?” Then he looks inside at the dashboard and says. “Oh my God!”

“How mad does he look?” Jim says, blinking up at McCoy past a leather mask which looks all but melded to his face, covering it from brow to top lip, his hair swept straight back, looking dark and damp.

“Pretty mad,” McCoy says. “Let's get out of here.”

## 

*

In the main prep room, Jim is lying back on an examination table, his suit peeled down to his waist as McCoy works on the bullet hole in his shoulder, eying the other black and blue bruises now and then. Nearby, Spock is sitting at a desk, elbow on the edge of the desk as he idly moves his thumb back and forth under his chin, his eyes on a screen with a rotating computer model of Jim's suit. He's making notations straight onto the screen with a stylus, brow furrowing in thought.

Jim sighs and looks up at McCoy. “I feel too good. What did you give me?” McCoy gives Jim his most unpleasant look and then goes back to carefully treating the wound, a tight look about his face. “Nice suit,” Jim says.

“Shut up,” McCoy says, a little too heatedly.

Jim sighs. “Fine. I apologize I got shot.”

“I told you--”

“Don't,” Jim warns. “Don't tell me you told me so, Bones. This is going to work, I know it is. It'll take time, but we'll get it right.”

“Indeed,” Spock says, turning his chair to look at McCoy and Jim. “Once we have fitted the suit with something to stop armour piercing bullets.”

McCoy closes his eyes for a second and mutters, “Jesus Christ.”

“Unfortunately, we have a more pressing dilemma,” Spock says, getting up and looking at Jim. “You are currently ignoring three hundred and fifty guests.”

Jim frowns. “I don't even know that many people.”

“Yet you have offended most of them at some point, which is a feat in itself,” Spock says with a nod, moving towards the door. “I suggest that while Mr. Scott makes repairs to the Bullet and Nyota analyzes our most recently obtained documents, you and Doctor McCoy... mingle.”

Spock offers a nod and possibly a smirk and then leaves McCoy and Jim alone. Jim decides remaining quiet is probably the best option and closes his eyes as McCoy works.

“So...” McCoy says quietly. “How was it?”

“Better than the last few times,” Jim says quietly. “The Bullet maintained its link with the bunker. Uhura's programs ran smoothly. Scotty got the thrusters up to scratch. Spock's information about Nero's warehouse was on the spot--”

“And then you got shot through a suit I helped make,” McCoy said.

Jim opens his eyes and smiles at McCoy. “No, I could finally move like I wasn't wearing cement. It pretty much deflected everything until this guy started loading his gun with fresh bullets. Hey, did you keep the bullet?” Jim sits up.

McCoy rolls his eyes and pushes Jim down. “Yes. I kept the damn bullet.”

“Good, we'll need that,” Jim says as McCoy, reaches for a white bandage and begins taping it down on the wound. Finally he snaps off his latex gloves and throws them in the trash.

Jim moves off the examination table, holding it for a moment as the room tilts back into place, all under McCoy's scrutiny. He slowly makes his way to the suit Spock has hung up for him, peeling off the rest of his attire with a groan. McCoy obstinately sits down in the chair that has been vacated by Spock.

“You look like a walking bruise,” McCoy comments.

Jim pulls on the black trousers, zipping them up and then exhausting himself after the button. He turns and gives McCoy an exasperated look. “A little help?”

“I took out a goddamn bullet, that's as helpful as I get tonight,” McCoy says.

Jim mutters a few curses under his breath and reaches for his shirt, which is a whole new pain experience. Even so, he manages to push and pull his way into the shirt with minimum face and body contortions. He's about give up by laughing at the fact that he's just faced off at least twelve guys with an assortment of weapons and now he's too tired to even put his cufflinks on.

Luckily, McCoy is pulling him towards a chair, pushing him down. He slips on the silver cufflinks that belonged to Jim's father before retrieving the socks and shoes left by Spock. He puts those on under Jim's gaze, Jim who has nothing but silence to offer, always in awe of McCoy being right there when he needs him most. McCoy straightens Jim's collar and gets up, holding out his tailored jacket, careful of the injured shoulder when he slips it over the left arm,

Jim smooths down the front of McCoy's shirt. “What would I do without you, Bones?”

McCoy shrugs. “Dunno. Have Scotty operating on you using a knife and fork probably.”

Jim smiles, leaning forward until McCoy is forced to kiss him and once he's kissed Jim, McCoy's pretty forced into being over his anger because now he has to have his arms around Jim too and there's more kissing and from the way Jim holds McCoy tight, it appears he couldn't care less about bullet wounds.

“Well,” Jim says, pulling away after a while. “Let's go meet three-hundred and fifty of my friends.”

McCoy opens the door and waits for Jim. “Sounds like fun.” As Jim is about to walk out, McCoy puts a hand on his chest. “Take it easy on the drink. I'm not hauling your ass up those stairs again.”

Jim nods and salutes. “Easy on the drink.”

McCoy rolls his eyes and guides Jim out, a comforting hand on his back.

## 

*

The host finally appears, looking a little unsteady on his feet and far too easily amused by everything. They exchange their usual amiable greeting before someone else pounces on Kirk and pulls him away, followed by another person and another. Occasionally Spock intervenes and answers questions before Kirk can, while McCoy spends a great deal of the evening looking as if he's avoiding everyone who wants to speak to him. His worried eyes always seek Kirk out and Pike can't help wondering what it is that Kirk needs protecting from. It's McCoy who hours later steals Kirk away from the crowded party.

Pike has no reason to be suspicious of these upstanding people, but his feet seem to follow the two men regardless. He sees McCoy coming out of another room, the door slightly ajar. When McCoy has disappeared, Pike goes to the door and peeks through the gap. Kirk is sitting at a piano, but facing away from it, his head tilted back as he stares at a large portrait above the mantlepiece. Pike recognizes the painting of George and Winona Kirk instantly.

“Your parents were good people,” Pike says quietly, having stepped into the room.

Kirk doesn't tense or turn, but then he already knows Pike is there behind him. “Yeah,” he says. “So everyone tells me.”

“People still remember them. Talk about the things they did for this city,” Pike says.

Jim turns his head and smiles at Pike, though there's no humour in the smile. “And here I am, destroying their legacy. Right?”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Pike says. “Your daily antics don't quite overshadow the dollars you donate to charitable causes every year.”

Jim nods, turning away. Sounding hoarse he says, “I'll make a note to up the antics. Was there anything else, Commissioner?”

Pike smiles, feeling a little hopeless and out of his depth. There's an aura of pain around Kirk that Pike can't quite penetrate, can't diffuse enough to tell him that he can do better with his life.

“Thanks for the invite,” Pike says. “I should be going.”

Jim holds up a hand. “Thanks for coming.”

“Here, I got you some--” McCoy walks in and stops when he sees Pike, a tall glass of water in his hand. “Commissioner. Am I interrupting?”

Pike smiles. “No, I was just leaving, Doctor.” Pike eyes the water and then looks back at Jim who is standing, hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. “Goodnight.”

McCoy nods to him as he leaves and closes the door behind him, but not completely. He can hear McCoy's slightly concerned tone as he says, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Kirk says easily.

“Sure?” McCoy sounds skeptical.

“Yeah,” Jim says, going silent. Pike hears a clink of something on glass and Jim is telling McCoy, “Thanks.”

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. We should totally make out now.” Pike arches a brow.

“Damn it, man, can't you be serious for a second?” McCoy says, amidst the sound of scuffling. “You were about to drop on your head out there.”

“I am serious. I've never done it in here before,” Jim says, followed by the sound of a body thumping down on something soft. “Also, I'm pretty sure Pike is still listening at the door.”

“Very funny,” McCoy says, sounding defeated by Jim before a different kind of silence descends and Pike decides it really is time to leave.

## 

*

It's three in the morning and freezing cold and Pike thinks he'd rather be at some rich brat's party right now than the rooftop of his apartment building.

“You came.”

Pike turns around to see a shadow standing on the very edge of the rooftop. It's hard to tell in the dark, but the man in front appears to be wearing some molded black costume, a dark heavy cape flapping behind him and a black mask covering his eyes. Something in the mask is lighting his eyes up so Pike can't make out their colour, instead seeing complete whiteness. His hair is dark and slicked back.

“You wanted to see me,” Pike says, trying to place the voice which is electronically distorted.

“I have information for you,” the dark figure says before throwing something at Pike. Pike catches it and sees it's a small disc in a case. “Locations.”

“For what?”

“You'll see,” he's told. “Criminals hide out in a lot of places besides dark alleys, Commissioner. They have offices and shiny cars. Policemen who live in their pockets. Except for you. You actually still give a damn.”

Pike stares at the figure before him. He holds up the disc. “This doesn't mean I approve of what you're doing.”

“That's because you're a good cop,” is the reply. “The disc. Take a look.”

Pike nods. “Sure.” The man turns away from Pike. “Whoa! Wait! You got a name or something?”

The man is still for a moment and shrugs. “Working on it.”

And then he just jumps and Pike runs to the edge of the building to see him fall, reaching it just in time to see him rush back towards the sky, his cape having stretched out like a pair of wings.

Pike stares, shaking his head and muttering, “Crazy son of a bitch.”

## 

*

Jim swoops down a few streets away, straight into an alley, retracting the light frame that turns his wings back into a cape. He runs down the alley and jumps in the back of the waiting car which instantly starts moving.

McCoy immediately starts removing his outfit piece by piece while Scotty drives and asks, “Did it work? The amplifier?”

Jim nods, turning as McCoy detaches the cape. “That and the distortion shield, Scotty. That was a good idea. You're a damn genius.”

“Why thank you,” Scotty says cheerily. “Now you can explain how you destroyed my lovely creation while driving the--”

“Naked back here,” Jim says and hits the switch for the partition screen to rise, only catching Scotty's annoyed, 'bugger'.

Jim grins at McCoy as he exchanges his suit for a sweater and pants, quickly pulling the clothes on as a compartment under the seats falls open and they both shove the whole suit, wings, attachments and boots inside.

“Did you give him the disc?” McCoy asks as Jim finishes pulling on a shoe.

Jim grins and nods, before moving closer to McCoy excitedly and pressing a kiss to his mouth, McCoy holding on tightly. “Yeah, I did.”

McCoy kisses back and smiles. “Time Nero got what's coming to him. Right?”

“Right,” Jim says. Hesitantly he asks, “What if he doesn't?”

McCoy seems to think it over and then he says, “We'll take the fight to him.”

Jim nods, certain for the first time that this little enterprise of theirs is going to work.

**\- the end -**


End file.
